


maps can be poems when you're on your own

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Endgame Larry, Friends to Lovers, Hair Pulling, Happy Ending, Liam and Louis are fucking but theres nothing graphic dw, M/M, Pining, Powerbottom Louis, Riding, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Student!Louis, idk what this is, this is loosely based off a sub plot in friends dont look at me, writer!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:12:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Harry, this is Louis, the guy I was telling you about,” Liam says. “Lou, this is Harry, my roommate.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry looks up and locks eyes with Louis, who is very clearly drunk. Louis just giggles in surprise and claps a hand over his own mouth, widening his eyes at Harry comically.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nice to meet you,” Harry croaks, watching as Louis tucks himself more firmly into Liam’s side.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, Harry falls in love with the guy his best friend is fooling around with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maps can be poems when you're on your own

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago and then forgot about it and then found it and cleaned it up and now here it is!
> 
> title is from cicadas and gulls by feist

There’s a mysterious ticking noise coming from somewhere in the flat. Harry has his pen poised idly over his notebook, staring up at the wall in front of him, trying to discern where the noise could be coming from. It could just be the heat kicking on, but Harry’s socked feet are still cold under his desk, and the radiator is cool to the touch. He tries to go back to writing, touches his pen down to the empty paper, and huffs a breath.

He cannot write like this. He cannot.

He drops his pen on the desk and pushes his chair back, freezing for another moment to listen for the ticking. It stops for just a second, and Harry thinks he’s in the clear, but then it starts right back up again. Harry groans and stands up, walking slowly to the other end of his bedroom to see if the ticking might be coming from over there.

This has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn’t know how to start the next chapter of his novel. Even if he was on a roll, like he so rarely is these days, he still wouldn’t be able to think with this tiny, obnoxious ticking in the back of his mind.

The thing is, though, it’s Friday night, and this is how he’s spending it: hunting around his own bedroom like a bored cat trying to locate the origin of the ticking noise. Liam went out hours ago and is probably, definitely going to end up getting laid tonight, for like the _third_ time this week, and Harry is just... Harry’s stuck in a rut, he thinks.

Liam, his roommate and best friend of far too long, has never had any trouble in this department. He goes out partying every weekend, brings home the most beautiful assortment of guys and girls every time, sometimes both at once, and all Harry does is write. He just sits in his room and works on the same novel he’s been working on since college, with the same boring characters, and writes. Or tries to, anyway.

It’s not like Harry is absolutely useless, though. Sure, Liam has a job that requires him to actually get up and get dressed and go to work 9-5, and he comes home with a fat enough paycheck to pay half the rent and do most of the food shopping. Harry does those survey things online, though, the ones that pay for responses, and the money is enough to cover Harry’s side of the bills. Once he publishes his novel he’ll be golden, he’s sure of it.

He rattles the window a bit and then listens for the ticking again, sighing at the discovery that it wasn’t just the wind. He moves to press his ear against the wall he shares with the neighbor, trying to listen again for the mysterious ticking noise.

Before he can really discern if it’s coming from next door or not, his own front door slams shut rather forcefully. Harry pulls his head away from the wall and tunes into that, instead, trying to figure out if Liam’s brought someone home.

There’s a bit of banging around, like Liam is wrestling with someone, and Harry prays for a moment that Liam hasn’t started a fight and brought it home with him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Liam,” someone moans loudly, followed by a long, drawn out whine. Liam answers with a grunt and then another door slams, presumably Liam’s bedroom door.

Harry sighs long and deep, thumping his head back against the wall. It’s always a long night when Liam brings someone home, because Liam has the stamina of a bull and usually doesn’t stop until the other person is close to tears. Or at least that’s what Harry has been able to gather over the years.

He doesn’t move until Liam’s guest squeals and there’s suddenly a lot of banging from the room next to Harry’s. That spurs Harry into motion, pushing away from the wall and darting out to the kitchen where maybe the noise will be muffled since he’s not just a thin wall away.

His and Liam’s bedrooms are mirror opposites of each other, and just outside their doors the kitchen and living room open into each other. The bathroom is next to Harry’s room and creates a corner between the wall and the worktop in the kitchen, which is where Harry goes to hide now. He fills a glass at the sink and hoists himself up on the worktop to drink it, trying not to bang his head back against the cupboard too hard at Liam’s guest’s high pitched wails and moans. 

It’s a guy, Harry thinks, but it’s a bit hard to tell with all of the added sex noises. He can’t make out a name through Liam’s muffled moans, not that he’s trying to, but the acoustics in this apartment are fantastic and it’s a bit hard not to hear. He thinks he’ll wait until they’re between rounds and then try to fall asleep as quickly as possible, although if they go as hard next time as they are now, Harry thinks they might just wake him up anyway.

Finally Liam’s friend reaches a truly earsplitting volume, and then the noise slowly tapers off. Harry digs his melatonin pills out of the cupboard behind him, the ones he only uses on nights like these when sleep is of the utmost importance, and then scampers back into his room.

He closes his notebook and caps the pen he left on the desk and then all but launches himself into bed, stuffing his head under his pillow for fear that they might start up again before Harry is totally asleep. 

The pills take effect quickly, though, and Harry drifts off before he hears another peep from the next room.

-

Harry is in the kitchen the next morning, making himself some toast, when Liam finally emerges from his room. He’s in nothing but his boxers and Harry dutifully keeps his eyes on his breakfast, praying for the toaster to pop now.

“Morning, Haz,” Liam hums, punching his shoulder gently.

“Morning,” Harry grumbles, manually popping the toaster before it’s really done and pulling his lightly toasted bread out.

“Sleep okay?” Liam asks, like wasn’t up all night moaning and causing a ruckus. Harry has been up since three, when Liam’s guest started actually screaming, and he hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep.

“Yeah,” he lies, spreading some jam over his toast. Liam is turning on the stove, probably to make some eggs, so Harry figures his guest is staying. “I’d ask how your night was, but I think I’ve got the general gist.”

Liam laughs quietly, cracking a few eggs into the frying pan. “Yeah, he’s loud, isn’t he? He’s _so_ good though,” he sighs dreamily, sparing a glance back at his closed bedroom door.

“Amazing,” Harry grumbles sarcastically, taking a bite of his toast before bringing his plate over to the table to sit down.

“I think he wants to go at it again after breakfast,” Liam says, giddy. “I might be in love.”

“He wants to go _again_?” Harry asks weakly. Does this guy have a refractory period?

“Yeah,” Liam laughs happily, spooning the eggs onto two plates. “How about that, eh?” He steals Harry’s second piece of toast and darts back into his room, kicking the door closed behind himself.

Harry curses Liam’s entire existence under his breath and finishes up his toast, figuring he has at least a few minutes to get dressed and get out while they eat before they go at it again. He clears up his plate and then goes to his room to throw his hair up into a bun, pulling on his favorite skinnies and a comfy jumper. He can hear murmuring through the wall but it still sounds innocent enough, so he takes his time pulling his boots on.

Suddenly, Liam cries out a loud, “oh, _fuck_ ,” and Harry jumps. He sweeps his notebook, pen, and phone into his bag and throws it over his shoulder, fleeing the apartment without a second thought. He slams the door behind him just for good measure, sighing as he sets off for the lift.

He holds onto the strap of his messenger bag as he leaves the building, heading toward the Starbucks down the street a bit. It’s chilly, colder than he’s dressed for, and he curses Liam again for that until he’s able to push through the door into the warmth of the cafe.

He finds a booth off to the side, far enough away from the line and the bustle of the rest of the cafe that he’ll be able to work in peace. He drops his bag onto the table and then gets in line for a drink, figuring that as long as he’s being sexiled he might as well treat himself. 

Once he has his caramel machiatto and is back at his booth, he pulls out his notebook to get to work. He taps the end of his pen against the page a few times, reading over his notes for the chapter, and ends up staring into the top of his drink for long enough that he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing.

He’s been trying to write this bit for weeks, and it’s so frustrating because every time he’s got something good in his head, he loses it or he messes it up somehow. He’s suffering from a terrible case of writer’s block, he thinks, and he doesn’t quite know what to do about it.

He sips at his drink and doodles for a bit, because he thinks he needs to take a break from writing but he doesn’t think it’s safe to go home quite yet. He doesn’t know if Liam and his guest plan on fucking all day or not, but it’s only been about half an hour, so they’re probably still at it. He finishes his drink after a little while and gets back in line for some food, because half of his breakfast was stolen this morning and he’s quite hungry. 

While he’s waiting off to the side for his croissant, he sees the most beautiful boy he’s probably ever seen in his life come in, looking a bit sleepy and like he’s in great need of some caffeine.

Harry tries not to stare, _tries_ being the operative word. He fails miserably. The guy is petite and pretty, sharp in the face and seemingly soft everywhere else. His eyes are currently quite hooded but Harry can already imagine the way they must shine when he’s excited, and his hair is so artfully messy that Harry wants to sit back down and write sonnets about it.

He steps up to the counter to order his drink in the prettiest, most delicate voice. Harry might be drooling.

Harry is still waiting for his food by the time the boy is finished ordering, meaning that he has to come and stand next to him by the counter. Harry keeps his head down and tries desperately to think of something cool or funny to say, when he’s startled out of his thoughts by that pretty, slightly raspy voice.

“Hi,” the guy is saying, giving Harry the smallest of smiles. “Just wanted to say I really like your shoes,” he says, nodding down at Harry’s feet.

Harry stares dumbly down at his boots, flexing his toes a little. His brown boots are scuffed and dirty and Liam constantly tells him he should just chuck them, but they’re comfy and Harry doesn’t care. “Really?”

“No,” the boy says forlornly, shaking his head at Harry’s feet. “Not really. I just needed an excuse to talk to you.”

Harry blinks at him, and then blinks again. “I’m Harry,” he finally manages, extending his hand to the other boy.

“Louis,” the boy grins, shaking Harry’s hand gingerly. His hand is so small, and his fingers are a bit cold, and Harry wants to hold onto them and warm him up.

“So what brings you to Starbucks today?” Harry asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Coffee, mostly,” Louis admits, looking over the counter to check on the progress of his drink. “Had a long night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes a bit at the thought. It’s only another second before Harry’s name is called, and he picks up his back with a little flourish. “Would you, um, do you wanna come sit with me for a bit? After you get your drink,” he says, gesturing to the counter.

Louis smiles at him for a moment, eyes sparkling exactly the way Harry thought they might. “Yeah, okay.”

Harry grins and goes back to his booth, closing his notebook and capping his pen while he waits for Louis. It’s only another moment before Louis plops down across from him, drink in hand.

“Looks like you’ve been camped out here a while,” Louis hums, gesturing toward Harry’s long empty drink and his careful set up with his work.

“Yeah, a bit. Little hard to work in my flat at the moment,” he murmurs, pulling a piece off his croissant and popping it in his mouth.

“Can I?” Louis asks, reaching for Harry’s notebook. Harry slides to to him with his elbow, swallowing the bite in his mouth.

“It’s a novel I’ve been writing for a few years now. I’m suffering from a bout of writer’s block at the moment, though,” he admits, watching as Louis starts flipping through the pages.

“A novel? Impressive,” he muses, eyes skimming over Harry’s words. “What’s it about?”

“This guy,” Harry mumbles through his croissant, “that works for London PD. And all this weird shit happens.”

Louis nods slowly, laughing quietly under his breath. “Wow, I don’t even have to read the book now,” he teases, closing the notebook and setting it down on the table.

Harry laughs, reaching out to take the notebook back. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a bit sick of it. I’ve been working on it since uni, but giving up on it just feels wrong,” he says, shrugging his shoulder as he flips through the pages idly.

“You should take a break,” Louis suggests, sipping at his coffee. “Move on to something else and come back to it?”

“I’d never come back to it,” Harry sighs, looking up at Louis. 

“Yeah, I get that. I admire your dedication, though. I’m a bit of a scatterbrain, can never finish anything,” Louis shrugs.

Harry just smiles at him for a moment, watching the way his eyelashes flutter when he looks down to pick up his drink. He watches Louis’s lips purse before he sips at it, and then watches Louis’s baby blue eyes flicker up to meet his own.

“Could I get your number?” Harry blurts out, and then blushes. “Sorry, that was forward. You’re just very pretty, and you’re nice to talk to. We should hang out sometime.”

Louis grins at him, nodding thoughtfully. “Yes, you can get my number. But only because I want to see that novel through until you’re finished,” he says, accepting Harry’s phone when he hands it over and tapping his number in happily.

“Looks like we’ll be friends for life, then,” Harry chuckles, taking his phone back and looking over the new contact. _Louis with the bum ;)_ it reads.

“Good for me, then,” Louis hums melodically, picking up his coffee and sliding out of the booth. “I should be on my way, I think. I haven’t been home since yesterday afternoon and I haven’t said a word to my roommate in that time, he probably thinks I’m dead.”

“I’ll text you,” Harry assures, smiling as Louis turns and walks away. He watches him for a moment, and yeah, Louis’s contact name is right, he does have a _fantastic_ arse.

-

When Harry finally gets home, he’s greeted by peace and quiet and a freshly showered Liam.

“Harry, you’re not going to believe this,” Liam sighs dreamily, dragging Harry down to cuddle on the couch before Harry can even put his bag down.

“What, did your dick finally fall off?” Harry asks sweetly, resting his head on Liam’s chest and grinning when Liam tugs at his hair.

“No, you prick. I think I’m in love with this guy, though,” he says. Harry perks up at that, looking up at Liam’s face.

“Really?” He asks, propping his chin up on his hands on Liam’s chest.

“Well, in love with his body, anyway,” Liam shrugs. Harry rolls his eyes, but Liam barrells on. “Seriously, he is unbelievably good in bed. His arse is so _so_ amazing and the _noises_ he makes, Harry-”

“Yeah, I can believe it,” Harry grumbles, moving to sit himself up.

“I think he’s going to be coming around a lot more often. I was texting him just before you got home, we have a date tonight,” he says, biting his lip and waggling his eyebrows.

“Is that so,” Harry hums, smiling over at him. “Where are you taking him?”

“Dunno yet,” Liam says, picking at something on his arm. “Might just wing it. Do you know any good places?” He asks innocently, but Harry has played this game before.

“No, no, no. Not this time, Payne,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at Liam and getting up to go to the kitchen.

“Why not?” Liam whines, hooking his chin over the back of the couch to watch while Harry digs a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“I’ve planned enough dates for you, you loser. If you’re going to woo this guy, you’re going to woo him on your own. He’s got to be wooed by _you_ , not by my taste in restaurants,” he says, grabbing his bag off the floor and heading to his room.

“Nobody even says ‘woo’ anymore, is this the nineties?” Liam calls bitterly, and Harry just pushes the door shut. He rolls his eyes as he drops his bag onto the bed, plopping down beside it.

He thinks about texting Louis, but doesn’t want to seem desperate. They only met about an hour ago, and if he texts him now, it’ll seem like he has nothing better to do with his time. Well, he really doesn’t have anything better to do with his time, but Louis doesn’t need to know that. He feels inspired, though, like Louis dug something out of him in their brief meeting. He feels like he knows how to start his next chapter now, knows exactly what happens next.

He pulls out his notebook and his pen and sits down at the desk, the words flowing out of him freely for the first time in weeks.

-

At some point, Harry moves from his desk to the kitchen table. He got stuck again and figured a change of scenery might do him well, and the kitchen is about the only other place he can go without going out again. He’s still hunched over the table scribbling out words when Liam emerges from his room, the smell of expensive cologne immediately filling the room.

“Holy shit,” Harry comments, impressed, when he looks up. Liam looks incredible, in a smooth baby blue button down and black skinny jeans. He’s just fastening his watch on his wrist when he walks over to Harry, grinning at him.

“What do you think? Think this’ll get my dick sucked tonight?” He hums, turning in a slow circle to show himself off from every angle.

“I’ll suck your dick right now,” Harry says. It’s always amazing to him how well Liam cleans up, seeing as how the only time Harry usually sees him is at ass o’clock in the morning when he gets up for work or around dinner time when he gets home after going to the gym.

“Thanks, Hazza, but I’ve got someone much prettier waiting for me,” Liam hums, patting Harry’s cheek gently. Harry huffs at him and scribbles down another few words before looking up again.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you go to his place tonight?” He suggests, a hint of pleading in his tone.

“Ah, we can’t, sorry. He has a roommate,” Liam says, wincing at Harry.

Harry stares at him for a moment and then looks around, like he’s checking to see if Liam is pranking him and getting it on film. “ _You have a roommate too_ ,” he hisses, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Yeah, but you don’t care,” Liam shrugs, waving Harry off like it’s no big deal. Except-

“You have literally never asked if me if I care or not!” Harry says, standing up to be at Liam’s height. “Not once! You just do it!”

“Yeah, but you’re cool,” Liam says, like that makes it okay, and ruffles Harry’s hair.

“I’m not cool!” Harry cries. “I am the least cool!”

“Yeah, okay, Hazza,” Liam chuckles, jogging over to the bathroom to check himself over in the mirror one last time. “I’m off, then.”

“I hope you choke and I hope your date stands you up,” Harry mutters bitterly, but they both know he doesn’t mean it.

“I hope that doesn’t happen, because I wanna marry this guy’s arse and that won’t be likely if I’m dead and he doesn’t show up,” Liam muses, walking over to kiss Harry’s head. “See you.”

“Have fun,” Harry sighs miserably, plopping back down at the table. He could go out, too, probably. He could probably even get laid, if he tried hard enough. But there’s a certain London PD officer calling for his attention within the pages of his notebook and yeah, he wins. He always wins.

-

Harry is still up when Liam and his date come home. He gave up on writing a few hours ago because his hand was cramping and Netflix was calling to him, and so here he is, curled up under a blanket watching _Friends_ alone in his apartment on a Saturday night while his roommate is about to get laid in the next room.

He hardly even looks up when the front door opens, much less when it closes. He keeps his eyes on the TV, trying to focus on whatever Ross is whining about, until Liam brings his date into the living room and interrupts him.

“Harry, this is Louis, the guy I was telling you about,” Liam says. “Lou, this is Harry, my roommate.”

Harry looks up and locks eyes with Louis, who is very clearly drunk. Louis just giggles in surprise and claps a hand over his own mouth, widening his eyes at Harry comically.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry croaks, watching as Louis tucks himself more firmly into Liam’s side.

“Right, well, we’ll be in my room if you need us. Try not to need us, please,” Liam hums, winking at Harry before dragging Louis to his bedroom.

Louis keeps his eyes locked with Harry’s, giggling almost manically, until the door shuts between them.

Harry lets out a long breath and suppresses the urge to scream, sinking down into the couch and taking Ross’s whining to heart. Of course the first guy he actually had a chance with in month is dating his roommate. Of course.

He can’t believe he didn’t see that coming earlier, actually, because his life has never been anything less than a shitshow, why stop now? 

His blanket is slipping off his shoulder a bit and he yanks it back up, cuddling into the corner of the couch again and staring at the TV. It doesn’t take long for Liam and Louis to get going and Harry just sighs and turns the TV up as loud as he can without getting a noise complaint, trying to block it out while it lasts. 

The thing is, Harry thinks he might’ve had a shot with Louis, if it wasn’t for Liam. Louis is cute and funny and nice and so, so pretty but Liam seems really into him, or at least into sex with him, and Harry can’t do that to him. He can’t crush on Louis, because that would hurt Liam, and the last thing Harry wants to do is hurt Liam. Liam may be rude sometimes, and he doesn’t respect Harry’s sleep when he brings people home, and he _never_ cleans the bathroom, but Harry loves him, and he would never infringe on someone he actually felt serious about.

Liam has never been one for commitment, always sleeping around with anybody and everybody, so this is big. If he’s actually considering dating Louis for more than his body, then this is really big, and Harry would die before he came between that. Plus, there are plenty of fish in the sea, and even if Louis is a really cute, funny, seemingly smart and interesting fish, Harry is sure that there are plenty more just like him.

His thoughts help to distract him from the very, very loud sex in the next room, at least for a little while. They go at it for hours, it seems, until Harry is sure Louis’s voice must be gone, and then finally they’re quiet. 

Harry sighs in relief and lowers the volume on the tv back to a normal setting. He gets through about half of another episode of _Friends_ before Liam’s bedroom door opens, and Harry looks up to see Louis sneaking out.

Louis quietly closes the door behind himself, and then jumps when he turns and sees Harry watching him. He’s dressed in Liam’s shirt from earlier and a pair of boxers, looking small and cuddly and well-fucked. It makes Harry feel a little dizzy.

“Oh, hi, you’re still up,” he says quietly, standing in front of the door like he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Yeah, hard to sleep when- you know,” Harry gestures vaguely toward Liam’s room.

“Oh, sorry,” Louis blushes deeply. “We were a bit loud, weren’t we? I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep it down next time,” he chuckles, but he looks horribly embarrassed.

“That’s okay,” Harry smiles at him, because it’s not that big of a deal, not really. Harry can deal with it. He can.

Louis smiles at him and sets off for the kitchen, filling a glass at the sink. He comes to the couch when he’s finished, sitting down gingerly on the opposite end from Harry.

“Is this weird? You just listened to me having sex for three hours,” Louis chuckles, looking down at his knees. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Harry assures, sitting up a bit to give Louis the attention he deserves.

“It’s just, I mean. Liam is good, but he’s so, like, aggressive? It’s so hard to keep it down-”

“Louis,” Harry cuts him off, squeezing his eyes shut. “Maybe, don’t.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis gushes, but he’s laughing. “Sorry. My brain to mouth filter has never been very good.”

“That’s alright,” Harry grins, looking up at him again. “I mean, I’m pretty used to it, anyway. I have to listen to Liam having sex all the bloody time, it’s really not a big deal anymore.”

Louis gets a bit quiet then, looking at the TV for a moment. “All the time? Is he, like- does he bring people home a lot?”

Harry considers his answer very carefully, because Louis seems unsure suddenly and Harry doesn’t want to say something to make him leave. “I mean, I won’t lie, he’s never really struggled in that department. It’s very rare he brings the same person home twice, though, so I’d say you must be better than average,” he says, smiling tightly at Louis.

Louis seems to relax at that, smiling at Harry. “Well, that’s good, I suppose,” he hums.

They sit quietly for a moment, until Harry speaks up again. “So I suppose we really will just be friends, then?” Louis looks confused, so Harry goes on. “I mean, I think Liam is really into you. And I didn’t know you were the guy he’d been raving about when we met this morning, so. I was gonna ask you on a date, at some point, but obviously now things are different,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“You really think Liam is that into me?” Louis asks, glancing back at his closed bedroom door.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know. Are you into him?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Louis says, but he seems distracted, just kind of staring at the door.

“He was so excited to go on a real date with you,” Harry continues, even though Louis doesn’t seem that into it, and he should probably just drop it. “I’ve never seen him so dressed up. He was really excited,” he assures.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Louis nods quickly, smiling. “That’s good,” he says again, smiling distractedly at the floor. 

“He’s my best friend, I mean,” Harry barrells on, doesn’t know why he can’t stop, “and I know when he’s really into someone. And I think he’s really into you.”

“Awesome,” Louis grins, but he’s still staring at the floor, like he’s just waiting for Harry to stop. Harry feels silly, suddenly, his stomach flipping over inside of him.

“Well, anyway,” he mutters, pushing himself up and off the couch. “I should get to bed.”

“Oh, goodnight,” Louis hums, looking up at him with a smile. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, and Harry frowns.

“Aren’t you gonna go back to bed, as well? I’ve heard he’s quite the cuddler,” he teases, watching Louis smile so hard his eyes crinkle at the sides. It’s beautiful.

“Yeah, yeah, so am I. I don’t sleep very well, though, insomnia, like. I’d just wake him up,” he says, shaking his head and playing with the hem of Liam’s shirt.

“Oh, that sucks,” Harry frowns, leaning against the side of the couch. Louis just shrugs noncommittally, and Harry sits back down. “Well, I mean, I was only halfway through my marathon, here,” he hums. “I’d be happy to stay up with you?”

“No, no,” Louis says quickly, smiling at Harry and reaching over to squeeze his bicep. Harry’s heart jumps. “No, that’s okay. You should get to bed,” he says, giving Harry another small smile when he hesitates. 

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, because even though he’s dead set on not crushing on Louis, he would really love to spend a full night having a Netflix binge with him.

“You’re so considerate,” Louis chuckles, pulling his legs up to cross them in front of himself on the couch. Harry has to focus really hard to keep from drooling at the sight of his meaty thighs. “Liam didn’t even kiss me goodnight before he conked out on me, and here you are offering to stay up all night with me,” he muses.

“Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me about Liam,” Harry chuckles, even though he kind of wants to punch Liam in the dick for being such a typical guy. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Louis hums placidly. “Now go to bed, you’re going to be exhausted.”

Harry chuckles and stands up again, backing away with his hands up in surrender. “Goodnight, Lou,” he hums, turning around when he reaches his bedroom door.

“Night,” Louis hums in return, stealing the blanket Harry had been using and cocooning himself in it on the couch.

Harry can’t help but watch him for a moment, endeared despite himself. When he finally looks away and closes his bedroom door, he can’t help but feel like he should have invited Louis in, even though that’s the opposite of what he should have done.

He climbs into bed feeling cold and vaguely empty and falls asleep quickly, the sounds from the TV bleeding through his door quietly for the rest of the night.

-

He wakes up with the sun the next morning, like he usually does. An hour wasted sleeping is an hour he’ll never get back, in his opinion, and is another hour closer to the end of his novel.

He rolls out of bed and smooths out his duvet, changing into a clean pair of joggers and a soft t-shirt, perfect for writing. He creeps quietly out of his bedroom and into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then makes his way to the kitchen where he left his notebook.

He nearly jumps out his skin when he sees a hand hanging over the back of the couch as he’s sitting down, his pen clattering to the floor loudly in the nearly silent room. There’s a message on the TV from Netflix asking if he’s still watching, and Louis is sound asleep, curled up into the corner of the couch.

Harry takes a moment to just smile at him. He looks so soft and cuddly and cute when he’s asleep, and those are definitely not thoughts he should be having about the guy his roommate is sleeping with. 

Speaking of which, Louis should be in Liam’s room doing just that, _sleeping with him_. He’s seen Liam wake up alone before after a night with someone and it’s never pretty, and he knows that if Liam wakes up and thinks Louis has left, he’ll be devastated.

That’s what Harry tells himself, anyway, as he tiptoes over and scoops Louis into his arms. Louis nuzzles into his chest and makes the sweetest little sound, and Harry’s heart aches as he carefully pushes open Liam’s door.

Liam is sprawled out under the covers, arm stretched over to the side like he’s cuddling some invisible person. Harry’s chest aches a little more intently when he carefully lays Louis down in the empty space, watching as Liam immediately curls around him and snores into the back of his neck quietly.

Harry is just about to turn to go when Louis’s eyes flutter open, and Harry freezes. Louis is staring straight at him but Harry doesn’t think he’s awake, not really, so he just holds his finger up to his lips and smiles comfortingly. Louis sniffles and digs his face into the pillow under his head, drifting back to sleep without another sound.

Harry silently backs out of the room, closing the door behind him slowly as to not make it creak. He lets out a breath of relief once he’s home free, taking a minute to convince his heart to stop protesting before he finally pads over to the table to get to work.

He can’t focus, though, not when the thought that he could have cuddled and kissed a soft and sleep warm Louis is still in the back of his head. He knows they’ll be up soon, that Liam will make him breakfast and he’ll probably have to socialize with both of them. The promise of that is enough to send him running back to his room, throwing on the most presentable clothes he can find, and then fleeing to Starbucks again.

-

Once the weekend is over, things get a bit more bearable. Liam is busy with work during the week and Louis doesn’t come around as often, which leaves Harry in a nice, quiet flat, without distractions from the thoughts he’s still having about Louis.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so hung up on him. They’ve only talked a few times, and he’s pretty sure Liam is head over heels for him. He doesn’t know why he can’t stop thinking about the way Louis’s lips pout when he’s asleep, or the way his eyes glitter when he smiles, or the way his voice sounds like a windchime, no matter what he’s saying.

Eventually he manages to sweep any thoughts of Louis under the rug and get down to business, working on the same chapter he’s been working on for days now. It’s only Wednesday, but he’s still only a few pages in, and hardly anything has happened, plot wise.

He’s in the middle of another boring description of another boring scene when there’s a knock on the door, light and friendly enough that it might be an angel. He pushes his greasy, unwashed hair out of his face and gets up to answer the door, eyes widening a bit at who he finds there.

“Hi,” Louis hums, rocking back on his heels.

“Oops, um, Liam isn’t here,” Harry says dumbly, not even moving aside to let Louis in.

“Oh, really? He said he’d be home by now,” Louis murmurs, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Is he running late?”

Harry hums quietly, turning to glance at the oven clock in the kitchen. “Yeah, I guess he is a little late. Um. You could come in? Like, to wait,” he says awkwardly, finally stepping aside to let Louis past.

“Thanks,” Louis hums, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “We’re supposed to be having a date, I can’t believe he didn’t at least text me,” he sighs, checking his phone again.

“Yeah, that’s Liam for you,” Harry chuckles, sitting back down at the table. “I mean, I love him, but he is kind of an airhead.”

Louis laughs quietly, watching as Harry flips through his notebook. “Oh, are you working? Sorry, sorry, I’ll go wait in Liam’s room. I don’t wanna distract you,” he says, giving Harry a little smile and then bouncing off to Liam’s room. Harry watches his arse the whole way until he’s out of sight, thinking that he wouldn’t mind being distracted by Louis all night. With that he dives into his work, finally getting into the more interesting bit of the scene.

He’s only written a few pages when Louis comes back to the kitchen. He doesn’t look up for more than a second and Louis takes it upon himself to sit down right across from him, watching him vigilantly.

Harry is able to ignore him for a few minutes, but when Louis starts huffing and puffing and fidgeting in his seat, Harry looks up with a smirk.

“Has he said anything to you? Where is he,” Louis complains, checking his phone yet again. 

“Probably just got caught up in something,” Harry murmurs, looking back down to finish his scene. Louis gives him a few minutes of peace before he groans again, and Harry drops his pen with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m so annoying,” Louis breathes, rubbing at his face. “But he’s almost an hour and a half late. I’m worried.”

“Why don’t we have a drink while we wait for him, yeah?” Harry suggests, flipping his notebook closed and getting up to look through the wine cupboard. 

“No, you were working, you don’t have to entertain me,” Louis argues, but Harry’s already picked out a bottle, and sets it down on the table while he looks for some glasses.

“I’ve been working all day, I could use a break. Besides, you’re way more fun to talk to than my London PD guy,” he jokes, setting a glass down on the table in front of Louis and pouring him some wine.

“Thank you,” Louis sighs gratefully, waiting for Harry to sit back down before he takes a sip. 

“So what do you do, then?” Harry hums, because he might as well use this time to get to know Liam’s perspective boyfriend a little better.

“I’m actually still studying,” Louis says, looking down at the glass of wine in his hand. “I’m in grad school, wanna be a teacher.”

“Oh, awesome,” Harry says, sipping idly at his own glass. “What do you wanna teach?”

“Drama, if I can,” Louis smiles, clearly pleased by Harry’s interest. “But I minored in history in college, so I have that, as well,” he explains.

“That’s so cool,” Harry hums, smiling at the way Louis ducks his head and smiles again. “I think you’d be a really great-”

He’s interrupted by his phone ringing on the kitchen worktop. He smiles apologetically and gets up to see who it is, leaning back against the counter and looking at Louis while he answers it.

“Hello, Liam,” he says nonchalantly, having to avert his eyes when Louis perks up immediately.

“Harry,” Liam says quickly, sounding out of breath, like he’s in a rush. “Hey, did Louis come by?”

“I’m actually keeping him company as we speak,” Harry hums, looking over at the clock, “since you were supposed to be home two hours ago.”

“Fuck,” Liam hisses, voice quiet over the rustling in the background. “Don’t let him leave, alright? I’ll be home in twenty minutes, tops,” he begs.

“What are you doing anyway? What possibly could have gotten you sidetracked for so long?” Harry asks curiously, crossing back over to sit down at the table with Louis.

“Fuck,” Liam says again, even quieter this time. “Don’t think I’m a prick, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Harry says suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at Louis.

“I fucked my boss,” Liam mumbles. Harry tries not to react too visibly, even though his stomach lurches and he’s sure his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Are you serious,” he mutters, deadpan, dropping his eyes to the table.

“Yes,” Liam whines. “I had the perfect opportunity, and you know I’ve been trying to bang her for months. It was unavoidable,” he tries, but Harry is growing increasingly sick. 

“Liam,” he says weakly, but Liam is already speaking again.

“Just don’t let Louis leave, okay? I’m still gonna take him on that date. Twenty minutes, Harry, please,” he says desperately, over the sound of a car door closing in the background and an engine starting.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry says, trying to play it cool. Liam hangs up on him and Harry puts his phone down, suddenly deafened by the heavy silence in the room.

Louis is biting the inside of his lip quite hard, from the looks of it, and Harry has no idea if he heard or not.

“Um, Liam says-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Louis breathes. “I heard the whole thing.”

Harry lets out a long sigh, reaching across the table to wrap his fingers around Louis’s wrist. “I’m really sorry.”

Louis shakes his head, chuckling sadly. “No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s my fault, really, for thinking someone might actually want me for me and not just for sex for one time in my life.”

Harry is floundering, because Louis’s voice is thick with unshed tears and Harry wants to punch Liam in the face.

“Louis-”

“No, it’s okay. I’m gonna go,” Louis sighs, pushing away from the table and standing up.

Harry stands up as well, quickly, and follows Louis to the door. “Should I tell Liam not to call?” he asks gently, hand on the doorknob to open it for Louis.

“I don’t care,” Louis mutters, staring intently at the door. Harry carefully puts himself between him and it, locking eyes with him.

“Listen to me,” he says quietly, reaching out to hold Louis’s shoulders. “I’m really sorry that this happened to you. Liam’s never been a real commitment kind of guy for as long as I’ve known him, and I’ve known him a long time. I was surprised he could be as into someone as I thought he was with you, but I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you,” he says, watching Louis’s eyes water a bit.

“It’s not your fault, really, it isn’t,” Louis says, shuffling forward and curling himself into Harry’s chest. Harry is forced to wrap his arms around him, hold his slightly smaller frame.

They stand there like that for much longer than they should, and not nearly as long as Harry wants. Louis pulls away and smiles up at him sadly, and Harry suddenly realizes how wrong that was.

“Well, sorry again,” he says, quickly moving aside and opening the door. “You have my number if you ever wanna conspire about Liam,” he jokes, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

Louis just laughs humorlessly and steps out into the hall, shaking his head. “Thanks,” he hums. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Harry watches him until he’s in the lift and then finally goes back inside, closing the door behind himself. He can’t believe Liam could be so stupid, so arrogant, so utterly _stupid_. Louis could have easily been the best thing that ever happened to him, but no, he went and blew it.

And the worst part of it is that Harry has never wanted to kiss Louis more than he does now. He wants to go after him, catch him in the lobby and kiss him like he deserves to be kissed. He could give Louis so much more than Liam ever could, but Louis is gone, and Harry needs to stop thinking like an asshole.

He sits back down at the table and tries to keep writing, but he feels like shit and all his inspiration is gone. He ends up downing the rest of his wine and Louis’s, as well, and then sets about clearing up the glasses and putting the bottle back in the cupboard.

Liam comes home in a flurry, running straight for his bedroom. He comes flying back out when he finds it empty, looking at Harry frantically. “Did Louis leave?” he asks breathlessly, panting from apparently running here.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry says, but his voice lacks regret. “He overheard us on the phone. He’s pretty upset, mate,” he says, not bothering to be gentle. Sure, Liam is his best friend, but he’s a dick for hurting Louis like this.

“Fuck,” Liam spits, digging his phone back out of his pocket and disappearing back into his room. He slams the door behind him, and Harry barely flinches.

He sits back down at the table, trying to pick up where he left off. It doesn’t take long for Liam to get a hold of Louis, though, and through the paper thin walls, Harry can hear everything.

“Baby, please,” Liam is begging, “I fucked up. It’ll never happen again.” Harry tries to block it out, but Liam keeps on. “Just give me another chance, baby,” he’s cooing. “I swear, you’re the only one I want. I promise I won’t do this again.”

Harry feels sick, kind of, because he doesn’t think that’s necessarily true. Liam has never been in a real relationship, in his defense, but he’s also used to sleeping with everyone and anyone he wants, and Harry isn’t quite sure he knows how to say no. He keeps pleading with Louis for about half an hour, saying things he probably doesn’t mean, until finally emerges from his room with a grin.

Harry doesn’t look at him, pretending to be completely absorbed in his work. He still wants to throw up, especially when Liam drops himself into the chair across from him.

“We’re good,” he tells Harry, like he asked. Harry finally looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Are you kidding me? That actually worked?” he scoffs.

“Yup,” Liam grins. “He’s not pleased with me, far from it, actually. But he’s letting me take him out tomorrow night to make up for it,” he hums, getting up to dig around in the fridge for a moment.

“Unbelievable,” Harry breathes, dropping his pen to the table and shaking his head.

“I know,” Liam laughs giddily, coming up from the fridge empty handed and winking at Harry before padding back to his room.

Harry stares blankly at his notebook for a moment, trying to understand how Louis could be so thick as to let Liam get away with this. Eventually he just slams his notebook closed and resigns to his own room, dropping face first into the bed and staying there until morning.

-

It takes three weeks for everything to become too much for Harry.

He’s pretty sure that Liam is still sleeping with people behind Louis’s back, but it clearly doesn’t take away from their own sex life, as far as Harry can hear. Liam seems pretty pleased with the way things are going, but from what Harry can tell, Louis doesn’t seem as thrilled. He’s his happy, jovial self, sure, but Harry gets the feeling that he knows Liam isn’t being completely faithful. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t care, is the thing. He’ll finish having a round of wild, extremely vocal sex with Liam and then wait for him to fall asleep before he trots into Harry’s room, half dressed and wanting to talk about anything and everything. Each night he gets a little closer and Harry doesn’t know what his endgame is, and he’s not sure he wants to.

The first time it happens, Harry is sat writing at his desk. Louis drags a chair in from the kitchen and sits with him until Harry pays attention to him, and they end up talking until morning. 

The next time it happens, Louis doesn’t bother with the chair. He comes right in and squeezes himself right onto the chair beside Harry, pressed so close to Harry’s side that Harry can smell every bit of sweat and come on him, and as uncomfortable and sick as that is, he still doesn’t tell him to go.

Not the next time, or the time after, but maybe the millionth time, Harry jumps into bed as soon as he hears Liam and Louis finish in the next room. He pulls the covers up over himself and flicks off the light in hopes that Louis will think he’s asleep and go back to Liam’s room, but of course, that’s not what happens.

Louis opens the door an inch and peeks inside, the light from the living room spilling in through the crack. Harry closes his eyes and evens out his breathing, and a second later the door closes. He’s about to sigh in relief but then he hears quiet footsteps coming toward the bed, and then a weight settles down on the edge of his mattress.

“Harry?” Louis whispers, reaching out to jostle his hip gently. “Are you asleep?”

Harry should answer, should roll over and open his eyes and talk about whatever Louis saw on the news earlier or listen to another story about a dog he petted on the street today on his way to class. Instead he stays silent, keeping his eyes firmly shut, and Louis seems to buy it.

“You are asleep,” he mutters. His weight shifts like he’s slumping in defeat, and Harry feels bad enough that he thinks he should pretend to wake up. Louis starts talking then, though, so Harry stays put. “You probably did this on purpose, didn’t you? So I’d be forced to actually go and be with Liam,” he chuckles, voice soft and light. “I mean, not that Liam isn’t great. He’s fun to spend time with, and he’s amazing in bed, but, once he’s asleep, it’s like- I look at him and I just- I don’t love him like I want to? And I don’t think I will, ever,” he whispers. 

Harry feels like he’s going to vomit into his pillow. Louis thinks he’s asleep, wouldn’t be saying this if he knew Harry was listening. Harry tries to roll over, tries to tell him to stop, but he’s paralyzed, and Louis just keeps talking.

“I wish he was a bit more like you, you know? You’re so easy to talk to and you’re so incredibly kind and funny and dorky in the cutest way. Liam’s such a typical guy, which is fine, but I’ve always pictured myself with someone more like you. That’s probably why I hang around so much,” he muses sadly. “I don’t think I deserve you, though. I can’t even find a halfway decent guy that can focus on just me, how could I possibly deserve someone like you?”

Harry has to bite down on the inside of his cheek quite hard, trying not to do something silly like cry. He wants to cry, though, and he might once Louis leaves. Louis is everything he’s ever wanted, period, and apparently the only thing keeping them apart is Louis’s irrational lack of self worth. It’s horrible, the worst thing Harry has ever heard, and he wants to kiss him and cuddle him until he realizes how amazing he is, clearly unlike what Liam’s doing for him.

“Whatever, I’m being silly. Thank god you’re asleep,” he chuckles. He shifts again and then Harry feels the warmth of his body press up against his back, like Louis is spooning him. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Harry thinks he’s actually going to cry. Eventually Louis sighs and gets up, though, moving one strand of curly hair away from Harry’s face. “Sleep tight, Hazza,” he whispers, and then he’s gone, tiptoeing back out the door and into Liam’s room.

Harry presses his face into his pillow harshly, hoping that if he stays here long enough he’ll just suffocate. He wants Louis, wants him so bad, but he can’t have him, and they both know it. He spends the rest of the night holding back tears, replaying Louis’s sad, quiet voice over and over in his head until the sun is up and shining in his tired eyes.

He flees. 

He packs his bag and runs before Louis or Liam can get out of bed, and this time he doesn’t just stop at Starbucks. He gets on the tube and just goes, because wherever he ends up will be better than having to look Louis in the eye.

-

He manages to avoid Louis for a good few days. He gets a lot done in terms of writing; he finishes the chapter he’s been working on and starts the next, and everything seems good. Well, not good, but okay. Perfectly okay.

Louis eventually gives up on their late night chats when Harry keeps pretending to be asleep, and it hurts Harry, but it’s for the best. He knows that Louis then goes and spends the rest of the night on the couch, because sometimes when he wakes up, Louis is still there, asleep. He doesn’t carry him back to Liam’s room anymore, though. He doesn’t have the heart.

Avoiding Louis can only work for so long, however. He and Liam are out on a date tonight, and Harry decided to stay in. He’s only about halfway through the second Harry Potter film when the two boys come bursting through the door, quite loudly. He peeks over the back of the couch to say hello, but only Louis spots him where he’s pressed up against the door, one of Liam’s thighs between both of his own and Liam’s lips attached to his neck.

They lock eyes for a moment, Harry’s hooded with exhaustion and Louis’s darkened with lust. Neither of them say anything, because before they even get the chance, Liam grabs his hand and tugs him toward his bedroom. Harry sinks back down into his comfy position on the couch and thinks about bleaching his eyes, because that was not a scene he ever wanted to witness.

He manages to catch the end of the movie through the ruckus in the next room and then turns the TV off, deciding to just turn in for the night. He feels like he hasn’t slept in days, and if he goes to bed now, maybe he can be asleep before the next round starts. He’s sure it’ll be a two-round kind of night, if the way Liam was shouting and grunting means anything.

He changes into his pajamas and crawls into bed, flicking out the lights. Once he’s settled in, warm under the covers, he’s out cold, and whatever goes on in the next room goes unnoticed for a few hours, at least.

-

It’s just past 3:00am when he wakes up, mouth dry and sour and his brain still foggy with sleep. He drags himself out of bed and over to his door, rubbing at his eyes while he shuffles out into the kitchen for a glass of water.

The first thing he notices is that Louis is sitting at the table. The second thing he notices is that he’s crying, shoulders shaking and quiet sobs wracking his small frame.

“Lou?” Harry rasps, suddenly a lot more awake than he was a moment ago.

Louis jumps and whips around, wiping quickly at his face. “I thought you were asleep,” he says, voice shaking. His eyes are red and his face is blotchy, like he’s been crying for a while.

“I was, I came to get some water. What’s wrong?” Harry asks quickly, rushing over to sit down beside him at the table. Louis shrugs and wraps his arms around himself, looking so small and so breakable.

“Liam’s cheating on me,” he whimpers quietly. He doesn’t sound shocked, more just resigned and disappointed.

“Oh, Lou,” Harry groans, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

“I asked-” he cuts off with a hiccup, “I asked him flat out if he’d been sleeping with other people behind my back. He couldn’t even look me in the eye,” he sobs quietly, looking up at Harry miserably.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, sliding his hand around to Louis’s opposite shoulder and pulling him against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why do I stay with him?” Louis cries, face pressed right into the center of Harry’s chest. “I knew it, I’ve known it the whole time. A cheater is a cheater, once and for always,” he whimpers. “I’ve been telling myself I’m just in it for the incredible sex but- but I don’t think even that makes up for the way I feel right now.”

Harry blanches a bit at that, because he has no idea how to answer that and he has no idea what Louis wants to hear. “Well-”

“I mean I could probably find sex just as good somewhere else, but there’s something that keeps me here, that keeps me with him. I just want him to focus on me, I want him to care about me, and I don’t think he does,” Louis cries, his shaking fist bunched in Harry’s shirt.

Harry doesn’t know what to do, so he just holds Louis a little tighter and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again, because it’s the only thing he can think of that isn’t _let me show you how much you deserve to be cared for_.

“Tell me what to do,” Louis pleads suddenly, looking up at Harry’s face.

“What?” Harry says, startled, out of his element.

“Tell me what I should do,” Louis says, tugging at Harry’s shirt. He’s going to stretch out the fabric, but Harry doesn’t care very much. “What do I do,” he cries, another few tears rolling.

“I don’t- I mean-” Harry fumbles, trying not to just blurt out _leave him and date me_.

“Pretend I’m one of the characters in your book,” Louis says, voice weak all of a sudden, “and this is all a plot you’ve created. I’m your character, what do I do next?”

Harry shakes his head, laughing humorlessly. “It doesn’t work that way, I think,” he says gently.

“Why not,” Louis bites out, starting to get frustrated. Harry rubs his back a little, soothes him just a bit.

“Because if you were one of my characters,” he breathes, resting his chin atop Louis’s head, “you would already know how incredibly perfect you are, and how much you’re worth, and how much better than this you deserve.”

Louis inhales sharply and hiccups, shaking his head against Harry’s chest. “Whatever,” he breathes, moving to pull away.

“No,” Harry says firmly, holding him even closer than before. He wants to kiss him, wants to lean in and kiss him until he forgets all about Liam. He can’t do that, though, because even if Liam is the one who caused this, he’s still Harry’s best friend, and Harry still can’t do that to him. “Just leave him, Louis,” he finally whispers. “You’re worth so much more than this. You deserve so much more.”

“I can’t,” Louis whimpers. “He’s so nice to me, and so generous, and I love being here. And yeah, it makes me feel kinda shitty that he can’t focus on me but, he’s such a good guy,” he reasons, shrugging one shoulder.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harry laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Louis, you could find someone better the first time you walk outside. He’s not a good guy, not for the reasons you need him to be. He’s not right for you, you can find someone so, _so_ much better.”

“I’m not sure I could,” Louis breathes, his entire body trembling in Harry’s arms. Harry tries to back off a bit but Louis just follows, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“You’re worth so much more than this,” Harry assures, closing his eyes and holding Louis tight. If Louis needs this, then Harry is going to give it to him, no matter the consequences.

“What am I worth?” Louis asks skeptically. Harry looks down to see that Louis has his eyes squeezed shut, like he’s fearing the answer, and Harry closes his own eyes again before he opens his mouth.

“You’re worth the entire world, and more. You’re so incredibly smart, and witty, and funny, and talented, and you’re so kind to everyone around you and you have this heart of gold that anyone would be lucky to be let into. You talk about everything with this sparkle in your eye that makes everything feel brand new, even if you’re talking about a piece of dog shit you stepped in that morning or a little boy who accidentally called you dad and spilled his milk on you on the tube. You have this long piece of fringe that you play with when you’re nervous and your hands are always just a little bit cold and the way you warm them up under your arms is so cute, I swear. Everything about you is so endearing, even the little things that most people would probably never pick up on. But I’ve picked up on them, and they make you so, so special, and you add up to this amazing, incredible person who deserves more than this world could ever give to you, and you’re not getting it. Liam is never going to be able to be the one to give it to you, Louis, he’s just not that kind of person. He doesn’t care, that’s just who he is, and you care so much, and that’s so beautiful, and I just wish it won’t go to waste.” He’s close to tears by the time he’s done talking, holding Louis so tight that it must hurt a bit. 

Louis lets out another little sob and looks up, meeting Harry’s eyes. It’s dim in the kitchen, but Harry can see the light in Louis’s eyes, and it’s so, so lovely.

Before he knows what’s happening, Louis’s lips are on his. He kisses back without hesitation, without a second thought, lips slotting with Louis’s so perfectly that it sends a pang right through his chest. Louis isn’t shaking quite so hard when they finally pull away, and Harry’s head feels stuffed full with cotton.

He’s in love with him. He’s not sure how he didn’t realize it before. Maybe he did, to some extent, but now he knows. He’s in love with Louis, and he’s never going to get over him.

“Shit,” Louis breathes, suddenly pulling out of Harry’s arms. “Oh my god, did we-”

“Louis,” Harry tries, reaching out for him, but Louis flinches back.

“Fuck, we just kissed. And I initiated it. Oh, fuck, I’m the worst person,” Louis whines, turning to look at Liam’s bedroom door.

“Louis, no-”

“No, I’ve done exactly what I was upset with Liam for doing. I fucked up, shit, I fucked up.”

“No, you don’t have to look at it like that-”

“I have to go make up with him,” Louis decides. Harry’s heart is clawing at his chest, like it’s trying to jump right out. Harry almost wishes it would.

“Louis-”

“No. I’m sorry, I have to,” Louis breathes, marching right to Liam’s door.

“Are you going to tell him about what just happened?” Harry asks, a little panicky, because if he does, then Liam is going to be angry at them both, but if he doesn’t then they both have to deal with the guilt of keeping this from him.

“Of course I’m not going to tell him,” Louis huffs. “Are you crazy?”

Harry lets out a breath and shrugs, shaking his head. Louis spares him one last glance and then lets himself into Liam’s room, closing the door behind him.

Harry dazedly walks to the sink and fills a glass, like he came here to do in the first place. He swallows the whole thing in one go and then shuffles back to his room, laying face down on the bed and trying not to scream.

He knows what it’s like to kiss Louis, to hold him and to feel him under his fingers. He knows how his hair smells at 3:00am, and how soft his skin is, at least on his arms. He knows what it feels like to make Louis feel better, and now he knows what it’s like to lose him, as well.

-

For the first time in a long time, Harry has himself a lie in. He didn’t sleep much after going back to bed, and leaving his room might present the chance that he’ll run into Louis, and his bed seems so much more comforting than that. He stays in bed until Liam actually starts worrying about him around noon, and finally knocks.

“Haz?” he calls, peeking his head into the room. “Are you okay?”

“Bit ill, I think,” Harry lies, pressing his face into his pillow in hopes that Liam will just leave him alone.

“Aw, babe,” Liam coos, which is exactly the opposite of what Harry needs right now. He wants to cry, so he squeezes his eyes shut so Liam won’t notice. “Do you want me to call Louis back over? He left to go home, but I’m sure he’d come back. I think he told me once that he makes a really good chicken soup. Or maybe his mum makes it? Can’t really remember,” he chuckles, sitting down on the edge of Harry’s bed and reaching over to feel Harry’s forehead.

“No, definitely don’t call Louis,” Harry mutters, looking up at Liam’s face. He feels so much guilt wash over him when he meets his eyes that he has to look down; he kissed his boyfriend. He _kissed_ Liam’s boyfriend.

“Are you sure? You look really ill,” Liam says.

“Yeah, I’m positive,” Harry breathes. “Um, how are things with you and Louis, anyway?” he asks, trying to be casual.

“Really good, actually,” Liam grins, looking down at the floor. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna start trying a bit harder with him. We kinda got to talking last night and I told him I’ve been sleeping around a bit behind his back, and he seemed okay so I went to sleep, but then he woke me up at like 3:30 and went off on this rant about how special he is and how much he’s worth and how I need to treat him better. Was kinda hot, so I figured, you know, why not?”

Harry takes a deep breath, letting it out very, very slowly so he doesn’t actually puke. “So, you’re deciding to be faithful to Louis because you thought it was hot that he told you off?” he asks weakly, already feeling a headache coming on.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Liam chuckles, looking back up at Harry. “Bro, are you sure you don’t need anything?” he asks, checking Harry’s temperature again.

“Think I’m gonna be sick,” Harry mumbles, pushing himself out of bed and stumbling right to the bathroom. He heaves over the sink for a moment, and Liam doesn’t come after him. Harry isn’t sure if he’s grateful or not.

-

Liam leaves for work eventually, which means Harry has the flat to himself for a bit. He still doesn’t really feel like moving or doing anything, so once Liam is out the door, he makes himself a cup of tea and goes back to bed.

He gets a short nap, only an hour or two, before he’s forced to get up to deal with the incessant knocking on the door. He drags himself out of his room and through the kitchen, pushing his somewhat greasy hair out of his face while he pulls the door open.

“Hi,” Louis chirps, pushing right past him into the flat. “You look like shit. Liam said you weren’t feeling very well?” He hums, hanging his coat up and then turning around to inspect Harry.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Harry grumbles, catching the hand that Louis extends to feel his forehead. “Liam isn’t home yet.”

“No, I know,” Louis hums, frowning when Harry pushes his hand away. “He asked me to come over a little early and check on you. We’re going to dinner when he gets home, but I could make you some soup before I go?”

“I don’t need soup, I’m not sick,” Harry assures, shaking his head at Louis and shuffling toward the kitchen.

“You sure look sick,” Louis argues, following right after him.

“That’s how I look when I’m being eaten alive by guilt,” Harry says articulately, shooting a glare at Louis. Louis deflates a bit, his aloofness leaving him all at once.

“Shit, this is my fault,” he realizes under his breath.

“ _Our_ fault,” Harry corrects him. “We’re both to blame.”

“I know,” Louis groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck. It’s killing me, too. He seemed so happy, though, last night and this morning, too. I don’t think I can tell him,” he breathes.

“We have to tell him,” Harry says, grabbing Louis’s wrists to pull his hands away from his face. 

“I can’t, Harry, I can’t,” Louis whines.

“We’ll if you’re not going to, then I am,” Harry decides.

“ _No_ ,” Louis pleads, “what if he leaves me?”

Harry sighs and lets go of him, turning away to tug at his own hair a bit. “I don’t know. I don’t know, but I can’t do this.”

“Me either,” Louis breathes, dropping into one of the chairs at the table. Harry sits down across from him, watching him carefully.

“So do you agree that we need to tell him?” Harry asks, voice gentle and hopefully persuasive.

“Yes,” Louis hisses, covering his face again. “But I can’t- God, I feel like shit, but I can’t tell him. I don’t know how to-” he cuts himself off, doubling over like he’s genuinely in pain.

“I’ll tell him, if it’ll make it easier, but he has to know,” Harry reasons, reaching across the table to touch Louis’s arm.

Louis jerks away like he’s been shocked, and Harry flinches. “I can’t do this. I can’t be here. Fuck, I’m the worst,” he whines. With that he pushes away from the table, marching straight to the door.

“Louis,” Harry tries, getting up to chase after him.

“I don’t care, tell him. I can’t be here,” he whimpers, slipping right out the door before Harry can follow him and closing it tightly behind him.

Harry rushes to get it open and steps out into the hall, but Louis is already gone. He shuffles back inside and closes the door quietly, dropping his forehead against it once it’s closed.

He understands why Louis doesn’t want to be here when Liam finds out. Harry doesn’t really want to be here, either. Liam is going to flip, he already knows it. Part of him hopes he does leave Louis over it, because then Louis can go and find someone worth his while and get everything he really deserves. But on the other hand, if Liam does leave Louis, then Louis will hate Harry for being the one to make it happen. Either way, they’re all going to be hurt, and Harry can only really hope for the best for Louis.

It’s another ten minutes before Liam comes home, and Harry spends all of them drinking. He’s only one glass of whiskey deep when Liam comes through the door, but it’s enough to make him just that much braver.

“Hey,” Liam says, glancing through his open bedroom door. “Did Louis ever show up?”

Harry takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, staring down at his glass.

“What happened?” Liam asks gravely, taking the seat that Louis was occupying not even half an hour ago.

“Um,” Harry whispers. “I um. I have to tell you something. And you’re not going to like it.”

“What?” Liam asks quickly. “Did you guys fight, or something? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Harry assures. “We didn’t fight. We um, actually, we- we may have kissed.”

The silence in the room is palpable once the words are out. Harry has to look up just to make sure that Liam is breathing, he’s so quiet.

“You,” Liam says, voice dangerously low, “kissed.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes.

“You,” Liam growls, slightly louder this time, “kissed Louis. You kissed Louis?” He sounds hurt, so much more hurt than Harry had planned for.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut tight, pinching his own thigh under the table. “Yeah.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Liam spits, pushing back from the table and standing up abruptly. “What the fuck, Harry!”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, forcing his eyes open again. “It was an accident. It wasn’t supposed to happen. We were just talking, and then-”

“And then you kissed Louis,” Liam interrupts. He looks like he’s holding himself back, but very weakly, like at any second he’s going to round the table and knock Harry out. Harry kind of hopes he will.

“Yes,” he breathes, keeping his eyes glued to the table, hands shaking just slightly.

“What-” Liam scoffs, running his hand through his hair and turning in a slow circle, like he’s lost. “What- how did it happen? When?”

“Last night,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper now. “He was- well, he was crying because of the way you were treating him, actually, and I happened to find him. We got to talking and I told him that he was, um, that he was worth so much more than that. And we were both kind of emotional and then he hugged me and it- it just kind of happened,” he shrugs, looking up at Liam helplessly.

“I’m trying so hard,” Liam says, his voice back to that deathly quiet, deep growl. “I am trying so hard to be good for him. And now I don’t even know if he’s worth it.”

Harry has so much to say that. He has so much to argue against that. Louis will always be worth it, he thinks, no matter what he or anyone else does. He’ll always be worth it. “I’m sorry,” Harry says instead.

“How could you do this to me,” Liam says, voice steadily growing in volume. If yelling at Harry will make him feel better, then so be it, but Harry wants to shatter into a thousand pieces. At least it’s not Louis. “You’re my best friend! How could you go behind my back like this?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says again.

“You know how I feel about him,” Liam shouts. “How could you do this? How could you be so _selfish_?”

And that, that’s the final straw, isn’t it? Harry pushes himself away from the table so quickly that his chair falls over backwards, and even Liam jumps. “Selfish? You think that _I’m_ selfish? You were treating him like shit, Liam. It took him crying to me at 3:00am and me telling him how beautiful and amazing he is for him to understand it because you _don’t_ , you don’t do that for him, and that’s what he needs. You are ruining him, you’re making him self conscious and paranoid and he doesn’t need that, he doesn’t deserve that, he deserves the whole world and more and you aren’t giving that to him because you don’t _care_ , you don’t care enough and if one kiss is enough to outweigh everything you’ve put him through then you don’t deserve him, you don’t get to decide what he is and isn’t worth!” He’s shouting, nearly screaming, and when he finally stops, Liam is white as a ghost.

“I-” he stutters, shaking his head.

“You,” Harry spits, pointing a finger at him, “have completely drained him of any self confidence he had. He comes to my room almost every night after you fall asleep, did you know that? He tells me all the things he thinks he can’t tell you, the things he doesn’t think you’ll care about. Is that hot, to you? Is it hot that you’ve broken him to the point that he needed to be told how perfect every bit of him is just so that he could believe it enough to inform you of it?”

“Fuck you,” Liam spits, finally rounding the table. “He loves me, and I love him back.”

“Oh, yeah? Did he tell you that?” Harry scoffs, chest still puffed out, still brave.

“Yeah, he did,” Liam snarls. “Right before he sucked my dick and let me put my tongue in his arse,” he smirks. He’s playing dirty, and it’s working.

Harry blanches, suddenly speechless. He can’t believe Louis would do such a thing.

Liam chuckles darkly, but the smile doesn’t last. “Fuck you, anyway. I can’t believe you would do this to me,” he hisses, giving Harry one last dirty look before disappearing into his room.

Harry feels sick again, swaying on his feet. He stumbles into the bathroom again and heaves into the sink, but this time he’s actually sick. The burning in his throat brings tears to his eyes and he doesn’t know how to make them stop, really, so he just drags himself to bed and stays there for the rest of the night.

-

Harry wakes up the following morning to a lot of shouting. It sounds one sided, like Liam is on the phone, and he can’t quite make out what’s being said, but it doesn’t sound good.

A little while after the shouting is over, Harry hears Liam leave for work. It takes him a little while to roll out of bed but when he does he goes straight to Liam’s room, digging out the cigarettes he keeps in his desk drawer.

Harry doesn’t smoke, not very often. He does occasionally, when he’s sad or stressed or particularly stuck on something in his novel. Usually he hates it, but sometimes it’s nice, like when he wants to sit in his bedroom window and be melodramatic and sad.

He takes three cigarettes and then puts the box back, nicking Liam’s lighter and retreating back to his own room. He opens the window and swings one leg out, sitting with his back against the frame and one leg on either side of the wall.

He lights the first cigarette and closes his eyes, taking a long, slow drag. The smoke fills his lungs and eases some of the tension in his chest, but not enough, so he takes another drag, and another, until he has to flick the burnt out filter out the window and light his next.

He smokes through this one slower, letting the smoke sit in his lungs longer and blowing it out like he’s afraid of losing it. It’s about an hour until he’s done with all three, and then he sits playing with Liam’s lighter for a bit until he gets too cold and has to come back in and close the window.

As soon as the window is closed he hears a tentative knock on the front door, and frowns deeply in confusion. He trots back to Liam’s room to put the lighter away and then goes to open the door, nearly falling over when he sees who is standing there.

“Oh, I was about to give up,” Louis chuckles sadly. “I’ve been knocking for ten minutes, thought you weren’t going to answer.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Harry says, eyes glued to Louis’s face. “You look exhausted. And sad.”

“Yeah. Liam broke up with me,” he shrugs, fingering something behind his back. 

“What a fucking hypocrite,” Harry scoffs, leaning against the doorframe and watching Louis’s lips twitch into the tiniest of smiles.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs, eyes meeting Harry’s for a split second before looking down again.

“Are you upset?” Harry asks gently, ducking his head to try and meet Louis’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugs. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Well,” Harry glances over his shoulder, “he’s not home right now, if you wanna come in?”

Louis looks nervous suddenly, eyes darting around over Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Then, no offence, but why did you come here?” Harry asks, frowning when Louis pulls a little paper bag out from behind his back.

“Um, I brought some croissants?” He says,almost like he’s confused himself, handing the bag over to Harry.

“Croissants?” Harry asks curiously, lips quirking up as he peeks into the bag.

“Yeah. Well, I know you like them, because when we first met, you were eating one,” he shrugs, like that explains why he brought croissants to his ex-lover’s roommate.

Harry can’t help but smile softly, looking up at Louis. “Why don’t you come in?” It’s not really a question this time.

Louis smiles back at him, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Yeah, alright,” he nods.

Harry leads him right over to the couch and sits, prompting Louis to do the same. He plucks a croissant from the bag and then hands them over to Louis, waiting for Louis to take one before he tears a piece off his own and takes a bite.

“You know,” Louis laughs humorlessly, picking at his croissant. “I’m not even sure it’s Liam that I’ll miss?”

Harry frowns at him, swallowing the bite in his mouth carefully. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t hate me for this,” Louis breaths, closing his eyes and falling back against the sofa, croissant forgotten in his lap.

“Louis, what?” Harry pleads, turning to face him more fully and putting his croissant down on the table.

“Honestly-” Louis cuts off with a little grunt, like he’s not sure if he should be saying what he’s about to say. “Honestly,” he starts again, “I’m not even sure I would have stayed with Liam for as long as I did if it weren’t for you.” At Harry’s bewildered expression, he continues. “I mean, the sex was fantastic, but I could have done without. It was like, I knew that every time I slept with Liam, it meant that I got to see you. I got to come to your room and chat to you, and spend time with you, and I guess I associated the physicality of being with Liam with the emotion of being with you,” he shrugs.

Harry can feel his jaw hanging open, but he can do nothing about it. If Louis is saying what he thinks he’s saying-

“But then you started avoiding me. You’d be asleep when I came to your room, or you’d already be gone when we woke up in the morning, and I stopped getting to see you. I started talking to you while you were asleep, hoping maybe that just talking would help, but it was you, it was always you that I wanted, not just the talking out loud bit. I realized that I wanted you, all of you, but then we kissed and I thought I’d gone and cocked it all up and I freaked, and now,” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders again with a great, heaving sigh.

“And now?” Harry asks, breathless, sitting literally on the edge of his seat. Louis finally opens his eyes and looks up at him, a slow, sad smile spreading over his lips.

“And now I’m single and you’re single, and I’m in love with you and I’m kind of hoping that you’re in love with me, as well?”

Harry’s entire brain shuts off for a moment. All he can do is stare at Louis, jaw dropped and eyes wide, until Louis laughs nervously. 

“Harry?”

“I think you should leave,” Harry breathes out, hardly moving a muscle.

Louis’s entire body slumps a little, his face showing his every emotion. Harry can tell that that was not what he expected to hear at all, and it hurts to know he’s hurt him, but they can’t do this, not now.

“Harry,” he says, voice breaking a bit, but Harry stands up before he can let it affect him.

“No, you need to go, I’m sorry,” he says, clenching his jaw and waiting for Louis to stand up.

“But why? I thought-”

“I know, and you’re right. And that’s why you have to go. I love you too, trust me, I love you so fucking much, but you’re still my best friend’s ex and I can’t be with you the way you want and if you stay it’ll only hurt us both.” His voice is shaking almost imperceptibly but he knows Louis can hear it, because his face crumbles.

“Yeah, alright, I see your point,” he says, his voice shaking as well. His entire body is trembling, actually, knees weak as he turns to go.

Harry walks him to the door in the worst kind of stupor. Louis turns around again when they get there and Harry can’t help himself, presses Louis up against it and kisses him, kisses the breath out of his lungs and the hurt out of his heart and the feeling out of his fingertips.

They’re both a little dazed when they break apart, caught in a thunderstorm of cliche fireworks and Harry is deaf, is blind, is completely numb when Louis slips out the door. 

He’s gone. Harry let him leave, and now he’s gone. He tells himself it’s for the best, but his heart isn’t buying it.

-

Liam doesn’t talk to him for three entire days. Neither of them really leaves their room for that time, but even when they happen to be in the kitchen at the same time, they don’t say a word.

And the thing is, Harry knew Liam was into Louis. He knew he loved having sex with Louis and waking up in the morning next to him, but he never thought that Liam would actually fall in love with him. And he’s still not really sure that Liam is in love with him, or if he’s just milking this because of the principle of it.

Either way, it hurts when Harry tries to catch his eye and just gets a cold shoulder in return. It hurts when he offers to make Liam some dinner only to be told to fuck off. Liam has been his best friend since college and he can’t actually believe that a month long romance is going to be enough to break them.

On day three, Harry has given up on hiding out in his room. He makes himself some lunch and then plants himself right on the couch, right in Liam’s path of travel if he leaves his room. It’s not that he actively wants to discuss this, really, but he knows they have to, or they’re just going to grow apart. As angry as they both are with each other, Harry knows that neither of them wants that.

It takes a couple hours, but eventually Liam leaves his bedroom. They lock eyes for all of five seconds before Liam sighs and goes to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge for far too long to actually be looking for something.

He comes back with a beer, even though it’s only about three in the afternoon. He plops down next to Harry, which is a development, twists open the bottle, and chugs.

Harry sits stock still, watching Liam’s feet. He doesn’t seem tense or angry in the slightest; he seems almost resigned.

“I called Louis last night,” he says, voice a little rough from disuse.

“Oh yeah?” Harry says gently, slowly turning to face him. “And?”

“I asked him if he wanted to get back together,” Liam admits, peeling the label off his beer mindlessly. “He turned me down.”

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest, whether in a good way or a bad way he doesn’t know. “Shit, Li, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Liam mutters. “He said there’s this guy he’s hung up on. He doesn’t want to get back into things with me because he needs time to get over this other guy he lost,” he says darkly, glancing over at Harry.

Harry feels himself flush, locking eyes with Liam. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Do you have any idea who this guy might be?” Liam asks, defeated. He doesn’t look sad, so much as just put out.

“I- I don’t know,” Harry says, shaking his head. 

“Is it you?”

“Liam-”

“Please tell me it’s you.”

Harry hangs his head a little, shrugging his shoulders. “It- yeah, it might be me.”

Liam nods slowly, eyes glued to Harry’s chest instead of his eyes. “And do you feel the same way about him?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, shrugging his shoulders again. “Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment until finally Harry is able to pry his eyes open. Liam looks disappointed, but not heartbroken, like Harry would’ve thought.

“Fuck,” Liam breathes, and with that, he gets up and goes straight back to his room. 

Harry curls up on the couch and buries his head between his knees, because he really is the worst. The most horrible part is that Louis told Liam he was in love with someone else, and Liam had to come to the conclusion himself that Louis meant Harry. Harry wants to cry, but he doesn’t, keeping his knees tucked up into his chest and trying to distract himself with what’s on TV.

It takes another four episodes of House Hunters International before Liam comes back out from his room. He looks a little braver than last time, and Harry sits up to give him his attention.

“I think,” he starts, drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes, “that you were right. I’m not right for Louis. I can’t give him the things he wants, let alone the things he needs. It was a nice little fling, but we were never meant to be anything long-term. I don’t even know if I know how to do long-term,” he admits.

Harry just nods, because he agrees. He’s quite proud of Liam for realizing this, actually. “That’s very big of you. This must be hard to say,” he says softly, reaching over to squeeze Liam’s arm.

“Yeah,” Liam chuckles quietly. “Um, so I was- I was thinking, like,” he stops to take a deep breath, sighing it out while he meets Harry’s eyes. “You guys are obviously perfect for each other. I don’t want to keep you guys apart because I’m a bitter old prick,” he says, shaking his head. “I think that if you guys want to be together, if you can give him the things I wasn’t able to give him, then you should. I always kind of thought he might be more into you than me, and I guess I was right. But I want you both to be happy, and if this will make you happy, then,” he trails off, shrugging and looking down.

Harry’s lips part in surprise, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. “Are you serious?” he breathes.

“Yeah, I am,” Liam smiles. “You both are important to me and I want to see you both happy.”

“Liam,” Harry grins, chewing on his bottom lip harshly so he won’t do something silly like cry.

“I realize this might be weird, but, oh well. You already seem thrilled, and I know he will be too,” he hums, shrugging again like it’s no big deal.

Harry launches himself at him, hugging him nearly to death. “Thank you, I love you,” he murmurs, digging his face into Liam’s neck while Liam laughs and tries to push him off. Eventually Liam gives in and cuddles him back, allowing a comfortable silence for only a moment.

“And I just want you to know, like, this isn’t me giving you my sloppy seconds. I still care about Louis, and I’m only doing this so I know he’ll be happy,” he assures, tugging Harry’s hair a little so he’ll look up at him.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry hums, pulling back just enough to meet Liam’s eyes. “I’m very proud of you. This is an incredibly nice thing you’re doing. I’ve had feelings for him for a while, and knowing you’re okay with it makes me so, so happy,” he whispers.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all soppy on me,” Liam teases, pushing him away. “Go get him, then. Tell him the good news.”

Harry grins so hard it hurts the corners of his mouth, leaving a sloppy kiss on Liam’s cheek before getting up to go grab his phone. He flops down on his bed and scrolls through his contacts for a moment, until he finds Louis’s number.

Louis picks up on the second ring, sounding absolutely miserable when he says, “hello?”

“Hey,” Harry says gently, heart aching a bit at the sound of Louis’s voice. “How’re you doing?”

“Pretty shit,” Louis chuckles sadly.

“Liam told me what you said on the phone yesterday,” Harry says.

“Oh,” Louis says, but he doesn’t sound surprised. “Yeah.”

“Can we meet somewhere? I wanna talk to you,” Harry says. He needs to see Louis’s face, hear his voice in person.

“Um, yeah, sure. Starbucks in an hour?” Louis says. Harry can hear the rustling of sheets behind him, like he’s just getting out of bed.

“Yeah, perfect,” Harry hums. They say goodbye and Harry jumps up to get changed, pulling on his comfiest skinnies and a jumper thick enough to brave the cold air outside without a jacket. He pulls his hair up and sweeps his private journal and a pen into his bag, and then he’s off.

He has a full hour before Louis is going to show up at Starbucks, but Harry doesn’t care. He wants to be there when Louis shows up, even if that means waiting forever. He pulls out his journal and flips through the pages, opening up to a clean one and taking out his pen.

This isn’t his notebook that he usually writes it, this one is more like a diary. He writes in this one when he has a lot to say and no one to say it to. There’s a lot in here about Louis.

He writes for a while about everything and nothing, just a stream of consciousness that he’ll probably look back on one day and laugh. It seems like no time at all before Louis slides into the booth across from them, eyes hooded and tired and his mouth pulled up into a little smile.

“You’re early,” Louis comments, shrugging off his jacket and leaning on the table a bit.

“So are you,” Harry hums, checking the time on his phone. He’s only been here about twenty minutes, so Louis is about forty minutes earlier than he said he would be.

“Wanted to beat you here,” Louis confesses, smiling shyly at him.

“Me too,” Harry chuckles. “So, Liam told me what you said,” he says gently. He doesn’t want to beat around the bush, wants to jump right in, because he can’t bear to see Louis looking miserable for too much longer.

“Yeah, you said, on the phone,” Louis hums. “So, what do you think?”

“I think you’re amazing for not getting back together with him,” Harry says, reaching over to touch his hand. “And I think you’re really brave for doing what will make you happiest.”

“I’m not weak, Harry,” Louis says, pulling his hand back just the slightest.

“Well, duh,” Harry grins. “Look at you. I never thought you were weak, and now I think you’re even stronger than you were before.” Louis smiles at him, looking down at the table. “And do you know what else Liam said while we were talking earlier?”

“What?” Louis asks, letting Harry take his hand finally.

“He told me that you said you were hung up on someone, and he thought that that someone might be me. And I told him yeah, he was probably right,” Harry says, running his fingertips over Louis’s knuckles. 

Louis chuckles quietly, watching their hands. “Yeah, he’s right,” he hums.

Harry’s stomach flips excitedly, but he keeps on. “So he said that if it would make us both happy, and that if we wanted to, he would be okay with us giving it a shot.”

Louis freezes slightly, looking up at Harry’s face. “What?”

Harry laughs quietly, squeezing Louis’s hand. “He told me that he wants you to be happy, and that if I’m the one that can make you happy and give you all the things you deserve, then he wants us to give it a go. He cares about both of us and he thinks we’d be perfect together, and he’s cool with us dating, if we decide we want to.”

Louis looks like he’s just won the lottery, lips parted and eyes wide. “Are you serious? Harry,” he squeals, squeezing Harry’s hand rather tight. 

“Yeah,” Harry grins, squeezing his hand right back. Louis adds his other hand to the mix and clutches at Harry’s fingers, suddenly adopting a very serious expression.

“You won’t cheat on me?” Louis asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Never,” Harry assures, giving him a little smile.

“You won’t ignore me or forget about me?” Louis continues.

“I couldn’t,” Harry says.

“You’ll never fall asleep without kissing me goodnight?” Louis asks pleadingly.

“Not ever in my life,” Harry says.

“And you’ll come find me if you wake up and I’m not in bed?” Louis asks, nearly begging now, squeezing Harry’s hand so tight it hurts.

“Every time,” Harry assures.

“You’ll love me?” Louis whispers, leaning closer. “You promise you’ll actually love me?”

“Yes, I promise, I swear,” Harry says, staring right at Louis’s eyes. “Forever.”

Louis leans back slightly and laughs, smile as bright as the sun. “Cool,” he hums.

Harry beams at him, standing up out of the booth and pulling Louis’s hands. Louis stands up and shrugs his coat on, while Harry collects his things. “Where are going?” Louis asks, but Harry just takes his hand again and pulls him along.

“For a walk, I think,” Harry says, but they don’t make it much farther than the door before Louis presses him up against the nearest flat surface, lips meeting eagerly.

Harry doesn’t even mind that he’s pressed up against the window of Starbucks, doesn’t care that there’s a young couple at the booth only a thin piece of glass away from them. He wraps his arms around Louis’s waist and pulls him up on his toes, kissing him harder than he should in public.

Someone bangs sharply on the glass behind Harry and Louis startles back, laughing brightly. Harry watches him with shining eyes and Louis grabs his hand, pulling him down the pavement. “Let’s go back to yours,” he says, glancing back at Harry.

“Are you sure?” Harry questions, pulling Louis to a stop. “Liam is home,” he warns.

Louis looks unsure for a second, but he nods. “Yeah. Might as well, right? We can’t avoid him our whole relationship,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agrees reluctantly, letting Louis continue to lead him home. 

Liam is still on the couch when they get there, watching something on the TV. He looks up when they come in, still holding hands, pink cheeked from the cold wind.

Liam just grins at them and gets up, turning off the TV. “Alright, I knew this would happen. I’m out of here, though, I know exactly how loud you get,” he teases, pointing at Louis. “And Haz, watch out, this one’s quite the control freak.”

Louis blushes and burrows into Harry’s side, but he’s grinning, so Harry is too. “Have fun, kiddos, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Liam hums, grabbing his jacket and slipping out the door.

“He was surprisingly cool about that, considering he nearly took my head off when I told him we kissed,” Harry hums, looking down at Louis. 

Louis chuckles softly and leans up to kiss him, snaking his hands around his waist. “He’s right, though. I do quite like being in control,” he hums, winking at Harry.

“Good thing I’m totally into that,” Harry grins, reaching up to run his fingers through Louis’s hair.

“It’s a bit complicated, though, because I also quite like getting fucked,” Louis admits, eyes fluttering closed for just a second when Harry scratches at his scalp.

“We can work with that,” Harry all but moans, tugging at Louis’s hair just a little too hard.

“I knew I liked you,” Louis hums, slipping his hands into Harry’s back pockets. “To the bedroom?”

“Well, do you wanna have something to eat, first? We can-”

“Harry,” Louis growls, leaning up to nip at his ear. “Take me to the bedroom. I’m not asking.”

Harry shivers, nodding quickly. He figures this is where the controlling bit begins. “Right. Come on.” He pulls out of Louis’s arms and grabs his hand, tugging him into his room and kicking the door shut behind them.

Louis all but throws himself on the bed, laughing as he goes bouncing right into the wall where the mattress is pressed up against it. It lightens the mood ever so slightly and Harry crawls up on top of him, kissing the giggles right out of his mouth.

Louis is still smiling when Harry pulls back, so Harry smiles as well. “Wanted this for so long,” Louis whispers, like it’s a secret. Maybe it is.

“Me too,” Harry says, running a hand down Louis’s body while he leans back in to kiss him. Louis turns his head, so Harry goes for his neck, feeling his soft skin under his lips and sucking hard.

“Harry,” Louis whines, gasping a little as he grabs onto Harry’s hair. “Fuck, fuck me,” he breathes, pushing his hips up against Harry’s.

Harry’s already hard, though he’s not really sure when that happened. It’s been so, so long since he’s done this, his body is craving it. Or maybe he’s just craving Louis, that seems like a reasonable explanation too.

“I’ve got you,” Harry murmurs, sitting up a bit to reach for his bedside drawer. Louis flips them over before he can, though, pinning him down. “What the-”

“I don’t like it on the bottom,” Louis hums, reaching for the drawer himself.

“But I thought you said-”

“Yeah, I like to get fucked,” he wiggles his bum over Harry’s crotch, “but I like it from the top.”

Harry whines loudly, distracted enough by the image in his head that he doesn’t even see Louis reach for the drawer. He feels it when a condom and his mostly empty bottle of lube hit him in the face, though, and he hears when Louis laughs.

“Get it together, Curly, I haven’t got all day,” Louis teases.

“Yes you do,” Harry mutters, reaching up beside his own head to grab the lube. “Gotta take your clothes off if you want anything,” he hums, smirking up at Louis.

“God, I thought you’d never say so,” Louis moans, whipping his shirt off and then reaching down to help Harry off with his.

“Thought you were in charge?” Harry teases, using his ab muscles to lift himself a bit to make Louis’s task easier.

“Thought I told you to be quiet?” Louis snips, tossing Harry’s shirt across the room with his own.

“You didn’t,” Harry smirks.

“Well I definitely meant to.” Louis takes a moment to let his eyes sweep over Harry’s body, and Harry takes a moment to do the same. Louis is beautiful, soft in the right places but toned so, so beautifully, and Harry can see why Liam could never get enough. Louis has these tattoos on his chest that Harry has only ever seen glimpses of, but now he doesn’t hesitate to run his fingers over them.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry tells him, looking away from his chest, up at his eyes. “I hope Liam told you that.”

Louis smiles somewhat shyly, reaching down to rub a thumb in slow, torturous circles around Harry’s nipple. Harry tries not to whine, biting down on his lip. “He might have, dunno. Not nearly enough, though,” he shrugs.

Harry reaches up to hold his cheeks, pulling him down for another kiss. “You’re amazing. Best I’ve ever had,” he hums, releasing Louis when he laughs.

“Jeez, Harold, we haven’t even done anything yet,” Louis chuckles, but he winks as he climbs off of Harry to get his pants off. 

“Yeah, and you’re already the best I’ve ever had. You should be flattered,” Harry smiles, making grabby hands at Louis once he’s down to his boxers.

“Should I? Who am I surpassing, then? Some seedy little bookworm from college?” Louis teases, kneeling beside Harry on the bed and working deliberately slow at his button.

“Yes,” Harry admits, pushing his hips up to allow Louis to tug his jeans down and off.

Louis laughs brightly and nearly falls back on top of him, chest to chest and nearly eye to eye. “Do you know I’ve never laughed during sex before?” he hums, eyes sparkling when he looks up at Harry. “Like, ever. Never found anyone that it came so easy, like this.”

Harry beams at him, hands snaking down his back to get a grip on that bum he’s had his eyes on forever. “So what you’re saying right now is that I’m the best you’ve ever had, as well?”

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Maybe, in a way,” he allows, reaching for the lube he dropped on the bed and pressing it into Harry’s hand. “Get to work.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry chirps playfully, lubing up three fingers and dropping the bottle back onto the bed. He snakes his hand back down and into Louis’s boxers this time, working between his cheeks until he finds his hole.

Louis reacts immediately, dropping his head into the crook of Harry’s neck. He’s full on whining before Harry even gets his whole first finger inside, which is stroking his ego quite nicely. It’s obvious that Louis must be quite sensitive down there, which explains why he likes to bottom, even if he’s doing it from the top.

Harry adds a second finger before Louis gives himself a hernia begging for it, pushing it right in alongside the first and finding almost no resistance. Louis is so relaxed, like he actually needs this as much as he’s saying he does, that Harry can move and scissor his two fingers in almost no time at all.

Once he has Louis open and ready and has bumped his prostate more than a few times with all three of his fingers, Louis is hard and leaking in his boxers against Harry’s stomach and Harry is just about drooling.

“Now,” Louis grunts, his controlling demeanor starting to come back as Harry pulls his fingers out. “Cock, now.”

Harry would never, ever argue with that.

He makes Louis sit up a bit so that they can both get their boxers off, throwing them to the ground with the rest of their clothing. Louis takes a few moments to ogle Harry’s dick before he grabs the condom, rolling it on him quickly and efficiently.

“God, Harry, hurry up,” Louis complains as Harry fumbles about with the lube. He ends up snatching the bottle right out of his hand, drizzling it over his cock himself. “There’s like none left. Is your sex life more extensive than I thought?” he teases, kneeling up to position himself over Harry’s cock.

“Unless my right hand counts, then no,” Harry blushes, holding Louis’s hips to make it easier as he starts to sink down.

“Oh yeah?” Louis grins, eyelashes fluttering a bit as Harry’s cock breaches his hole and he’s able to sink slowly. “What do you think about when you’re jacking off, then? Think about me, ever? Know you could hear me through that wall, ever think about how loud you could make me scream?”

Harry is nearly panting already, digging his fingers into Louis’s hips. When he’s finally fully seated, arse snug against Harry’s hip bones, the floodgates open. “Yeah, fuck, thought about how it’d feel to get you under me, or be under you. Thought about touching you, feeling you, making you come. I’ve wanted this so long, since the first time I met you, couldn’t help but think about it,” he manages, staring at the place where the base of his cock is just barely visible under Louis’s balls.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, starting to move slowly. It’s just a gentle rock of his hips, tiny figure eights, but Harry is already seeing stars. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it too. Thought about you sometimes when I was with Liam, wondered what it would be like to have you instead. To be able to see you, feel you, grab your hair like this and make you whine,” he grunts, grabbing Harry’s hair like he said. Harry whines right on cue, his leg kicking out involuntarily and making Louis lose his balance for just a moment. He tugs even harder on Harry’s hair by accident and Harry yelps, cock leaking where it’s buried inside of Louis.

“Fuck, fuck, do it again,” Harry pleads, looking up at Louis helplessly. Louis smirks and lifts himself up, dropping back down at the exact same time as he yanks Harry’s hair even harder than before.

Harry shouts, digging his nails into Louis’s thighs. “Fuck, feels so good,” he pants, nuzzling his head against Louis’s hand in hopes that he’ll keep doing it.

Louis builds up a rhythm, one hand planted on Harry’s chest while he slams his hips down on his cock, tugging hard with his other hand every other thrust. Harry thinks he’ll never recover from this if he makes out alive.

He lets his hands roam over Louis’s body, tweaking his nipples experimentally. Louis yelps and then whines, pushing into the touch, so Harry covers both the tiny nubs with his thumbs and rubs firmly.

“Harry,” Louis hiccups, hips moving faster. “Oh my _god_.” It’s clear when Harry’s cock hits his prostate, because Louis shrieks with pleasure and squeezes his eyes shut, riding even harder and faster.

“Close, I’m close,” Harry pants, pinching at Louis’s right nipple. Louis’s body starts to shake and he nods, letting out a broken sound in response.

Harry manages to hold off until Louis comes first, in the most beautiful display Harry has ever seen. Louis screams, actually _screams_ and comes all over himself, hole clenching sporadically around Harry while he moans and shouts his way through it. After that, Harry can’t hold back, the look of bliss on Louis’s face burned into the back of his eyelids when he comes _hard_ inside the condom.

Louis doesn’t stop for a few moments, hips rocking lazily until they’re both too sore to go on. Louis lifts himself up with some help from Harry and rolls off him, landing hard on the mattress beside him.

Harry immediately cuddles up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Louis tucks his face into Harry’s chin and whimpers quietly, still worked up, and Harry holds him until he stops shaking.

“Definitely the best I’ve ever had,” Harry decides, pressing a long, lingering kiss into Louis’s sweaty hair.

Louis chuckles tiredly, moving his head to look up at him. “I love you,” he whispers, suddenly looking vulnerable and very, very young.

Harry blinks and smiles at him, kissing his lips gently. “I love you,” he whispers in return, before pulling away and getting up with a soft sigh.

“Where are you going?” Louis whines, reaching for him. “Wanna nap.”

“We can nap in a minute,” Harry says. “Wanna clean you up first.”

He goes to the bathroom to wet a flannel, making sure it just warm enough to feel nice against Louis’s skin. He brings it back to the bed and gently wipes down Louis’s stomach, making sure he’s clean and not sticky at all.

He tosses the cloth into the hamper and then climbs back into bed, and then notices the way Louis is looking at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Louis assures, pulling him back down to cuddle. “You’re just very caring, I love that. Liam never got out of bed for me; just grabbed a few tissues and wiped me down and passed out.”

“Look,” Harry sighs, mock seriously, “this relationship isn’t going to work out if you keep comparing me to Liam.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Louis laughs, batting at Harry’s chest. “Shut up. There’s nothing to compare, anyway, you’re clearly better in every sense.”

“Even in bed?” Harry asks hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess,” Louis admits, grinning. “Now shush, let’s nap.”

“I thought you had trouble sleeping?” Harry says, settling into his pillow and pulling Louis into his chest.

“I do,” Louis shrugs, wriggling a leg between Harry’s and holding him tight. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t cuddle you while you have a nap.”

Harry grins at him for a long moment, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m happy you’re mine,” he whispers, but it’s not a secret.

“Me too,” Louis whispers back. That’s not a secret either.

**Author's Note:**

> idk ok
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/145575222612/fukcinglouis-maps-can-be-poems-when-youre-on), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
>  
> 
> [faq](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/faq)


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